how did i get here?

my husband, my beautiful Dragon, died suddenly at 12:03 AM on 9 February 2009. there was a cold, lovely full moon and 3 feet of snow on the ground. i "slept" for the following 10 months and "woke" to the physical and emotional pain and torments of deep grief. i "woke" to find i had moved the day of his funeral and that i am lost. i am looking for me while i figure out the abstract, unanswerable questions that follow behind any death. my art has evolved. his death changed that as well because i am forever changed and will forever bear the mark of losing the only man i can ever love.
there is alive and there is dead and there is a place in between. i am here wholly in my heart for my children, but i feel empty inside at this time. i miss him. i have not gotten very far in my grief journey. i make no apologies for this.
this is my place, my blog, where i write to tell the universe that i am still here.

Monday, February 9, 2015

6 years

i am still grieving.

i have found my footing, i think.  i am living.  i work and visit my daughter and grandson.  i live with my dogs and take care of them.  i take care of me as best as i can.  but what is hidden behind a smile can be a terrible thing.

a widow i knew only online, and through fairly regular phone calls over these 6 years killed herself in January on her wedding anniversary.  her daughter called me.  it seems my friend apologized to me in her note for not being able to stay.  she left my phone number so i could be told in a quiet phone call on a random Wednesday while driving to work.

my heart is shattered.  new grief on top of old grief.  the loneliness of this journey just got lonelier.  and darker.  i wish she had called me.  i wish, i wish, i wish.  "if wishes were horses, then beggars could ride."

a widower i met once but have kept up with through Facebook has received some terrible news.  his new husband is critically ill.  no real way of knowing how it could go.

i have kept myself to myself today, the anniversary of my own husband's death, but i had to reach out to this man.  i wrote to him that i was keeping him in my prayers.  his response was one of great fear and worry; of trying to keep it in check.  new grief on top of old grief.

i wrote back to him and felt it appropriate to put here for myself, for him, for any of us who grieve.  this is what i wrote to him:

love never breaks. it breaks down. it cries. it even curses fate sometimes. but it never breaks.

i met you for a brief time. we only got the chance to sit and speak for a very, very short time, but i remember you. i remember feeling your soul in your words i got to see the real you looking into your eyes. in your voice was sorrow and grief but a strength i wish i had had so early on in my own grief. when your hand held mine for a quiet moment as i cried, i felt your own courage and the solitude that i had been living in slipped away, if only for that moment. you gave me a moment of comfort and it has lasted me these 6 long years.

i have been very much alone with my grief throughout but when i feel despair; when i feel the solitude crushing down; when it hits me very hard that i have no one to really talk to; i remember those few minutes with you.

you have inside you an old soul, but also the resiliency of a young one. you have the ability to keep the candle of hope lit on a very windy, stormy, dark night. cry when you have to. be angry and question when you need to. but know that breaking down is not breaking. it merely gives you the chance to catch your breath so you can stand up stronger to face whatever comes your way.

we draw on what little we get to keep ourselves going; to keep ourselves warm; to light the darkness.

6 years later i still break down. i still cry.  i still miss him.

i am still adjusting the way i think of things.  i think i always will.

i have been asked questions with a "do you" and "why."  here are my answers.

yes, i still wear my wedding rings.  because if feels right.  
no, the thought of someone else does not enter my mind.  because it does not feel right.

i will love him all the days of my life. 

peace to all who read.  peace and light to all who grieve.


Judy said...

Oh no--I think I know the man you are talking about. This is very sad to me. I also wear his ring and don't want any other man. That's just the way it is and will forever be. I feel so badly for the daughter who's mother decided to take her own life--what has she done to her children and grand children? Such a tragedy for them. We have to stay alive--just so there is at least ONE person in this world who remembers how wonderful our men were and can talk to others about him. .BTW--I thought about you all day yesterday. Full moon last week, reminded me that February 9th was soon here. 6 years? It seems forever and yet---only yesterday.

GowitheFlo said...

I just discovered your blog. Isn't it wonderful to have someplace we can be authentic? An anniversary is so hallowed for me, too. To find one's footing is no easy task. I'm so sorry the widow you speak of took her own life - what utter torment she might have felt trapped in.

I'm coming up on my tenth anniversary. My seventh year was when I began to find my footing. Yes, it takes what it takes.
Take care, Flo

abandonedsouls said...

Judy and Flo, thank you both for leaving comments. someone reaching out to me means the world. it is easy to feel cut adrift, even after these few years. i still feel caught off guard, if someone asks, to say that i am a widow. hit can still hit me in the chest.

so thank you for writing to me.
peace and love.

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